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[salbutamol]

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text « un: prius

[unforgivably]

( he got his name purposefully. even though he compelled away what he did, he still needs to check in. guy gets a shark bite, he could die from anything in that house. so here's hoping he doesn't have two baby vamps running around. )

If this is the Eddie that flipped out over a bite I couldn't find, just making sure everything is kosher. No more disappearing bites? No sharks? You survived the Dollar Store version for Clue cosplay?

[salbutamol]

( the thing is, the whole time in the house was so complicated that it all feels like a bit of a fever dream. that doesn't make the whole 'mershark' situation any less confusing, but it certainly lends itself to eddie accepting that hey — maybe he was just a bit out of it. makes more sense than a disappearing bite, at least.

not that he needed reminding. the message isn't exactly unwelcome — hallway guy was probably nicer to a panicking stranger than eddie ever would be — but the whole situation is so tangled up that it makes him scowl anyway. )

Yeah, I'm fine. I kind of just his out after that whole thing. Sorry about that, by the way. I don't really know what happened. I guess I just saw teeth and overreacted a bit, wouldn't be the first time.

Also. Thanks. For not being an asshole about that whole thing.

[unforgivably]

( hallway guy. Damon's been called worse. don't lie, Eddie. Damon's also easy on the eyes. )

What can I say. I'm a kind guy.

Also, don't worry about it. Everything in that house... time was not our friend there. You didn't die, though.

( one less vampire to worry about. score. )

[salbutamol]

Definitely didn't die. Honestly I probably just freaked myself out and made the whole situation out to be much scarier than it actually was. I doubt there was even that much danger.

Still, I appreciate it. I owe you one. I don't know, a drink or something? I don't know what people do to say 'thanks for not being a dick about my shark man freak out'.

[unforgivably]

( ✔️ not a baby vampire )

I'm not owed anything. And that how was scary. It was the stuff of non-con nightmares. If you believe you saw a shark man, you probably saw a shark man.

And I've been a dick about less.

text;

[godking]

is this laura's friend

[salbutamol]

( ... )

Yes.
Why?

[godking]

you want a sex free contract?

i help you, you help me?

sorry i threw coins at you, i get jealous

[salbutamol]

Jealous of what?

( this seems like a bad idea, but also...maybe it's just a bit of luck finally going eddie's way? )

What else would you want on the contract?

[godking]

people talking to laura

nothing. non sexual. just a fella helpin another fella

text; un: l.moon

[rottingly]

hey.

[salbutamol]

Hey, Laura. How are you?

( he thinks he can probably guess what the message is about, but y'know. )

[rottingly]

[ Eddie, the Mind Reader. ]

are you back in the down?

[salbutamol]

Not yet, but soon. Nice while it lasted.

You doing okay? I know you guys were...friends, or whatever.

[rottingly]

maybe i can hide you out at my place.

i'm okay. it's just fucking weird.

parcel

[buzzwords]

[ It somehow even manages to find Eddie's new (old?) place. He'll find a large box in his drop from one of the higher-end department stores in the Up, and a small white card attached to it, upon which is simply written "Sorry". The box contains a dishware set, including plates, bowls, cups, and glasses, in a hardy but tasteful reinforced white porcelain make with generic baby blue lacing designs around the edges. The glasses are smooth blue-stained glass with spun designs carved around the bases.

There is no return address or information with it. ]

» text

[salbutamol]

( he doesn't respond for the better part of a day. it was reasonable, he thought, to assume where these had come from. there's only one person that's had any reason to replace kitchenware, after all. by the time he actually decides to say something, he just ends up deleting and retyping a whole lot of messages that range from furious (how dare you what is wrong with you) to downright pathetic (i didn't mean it please don't be mad) and uses none of them.

in the end it's late when he finally commits to something – though nowhere near as late as the last message eddie had sent. )

I am capable of buying my own glassware, you know.

( he hits send before he thinks better of it and immediately regrets it. follows up with another one in rapid response. )

Which part?

text ∞; UN: interrobang

[buzzwords]

[ It's... probably a good thing Eddie waited so long. It's taken Joe most of the day to decompress himself after arranging the delivery in the first place, diving mindlessly into both of his jobs until he knows he's at capacity for robotic tasks.

He's picking at the long since cold dinner he picked up on his way home when the message comes. He doesn't sit on it nearly as long as Eddie did, already fairly aware of their positions and having had the day to keep nursing his figurative wounds. But... he does bolster himself with some wine before he lets himself into this arena. ]

Not sure yet. We both have valid stakes in it. Property damage was on me, though.

[salbutamol]

( it's another long delay between responses, because eddie honestly can't decide what approach to take — understanding? it's not like he doesn't get it, in some way. offended? he's still licking his wounds and that's not likely to go away any time soon. )

They weren't my glasses to replace.

But thank you. They're nice.

( he could leave it at that. probably should, really. leave it as a nice memory with a sour taste in the back of his mouth, but for whatever reason, he adds more. )

If you actually don't want me to contact you, I won't.
I'm not actually a bad person, you know. I'm not trying to use anyone.

text; un: trashmouth

[sloppybitch]

so ...
trying to figure out if you're pissed at me again for something.

and what that something could possibly be.

[salbutamol]

I'm not pissed at you.
I'm just. ( spiralling over some interesting revelations ) I got caught up, I guess.

You didn't do anything wrong.

pls tolerate my lack of icons for just a smidge longer ty

[sloppybitch]

[Shit. That terminology can't be good.]
Caught up?

[salbutamol]

( a braver person might ask any of the thousand questions plaguing eddie since joe's volatile departure – why didn't you tell me did you love him do you wish i was him do you love m– but he won't. eddie doesn't feel brave very often at all, actually. that's probably why he's been avoiding richie. )

There's just a lot going on. ( there really isn't ) Did you really think you'd done something?

xmas

[sloppybitch]

[with no card because richie hasn't been the greatest with words a package will be at his front door.

gingerly wrapped inside is a gag gift, bright red tennis shorts that say psychoanalyze me on the rear. The anal in analyze is bedazzled.

Alongside it, the real gift, a tea kettle and several loose leaf teas.

The only signature to speak of:
Love,
Your pal The Grinch]

parcel; backdated to xmas

[buzzwords]

[ This one... is pretty simple, honestly. The box is flattish, not even heavy this time, and festively wrapped. One can feel the apathy of some poor kiosk employee who had to wrap it.

It contains: two shirts. One is almost, but not entirely, unlike the one ripped and ruined a few nights back. The only similarity is the fact this this one is also a polo. Strangely enough, this one's colour and pattern choices bring a slightly more vibrant air to Eddie's features, almost as if it looks better on him than the last one did anyway. The other one is a lot less, but also still kind of more: it's an undershirt, nearly pristinely white but absolutely clean and pressed, and definitely a little too big for Eddie. (don't worry about it, he has no idea how many people have stolen his clothes by now so it's kind of a norm by now, its fine).

Except there's one more package tucked behind the bigger box. This is simply a bag with a smaller sealed bag inside, and a pack of small filter bags. In careful cursive, the label on the smaller bag reads: "Garden of Nyx, a blend as unique as yourself." The contents bear a familiar scent and a familiar-looking blend of leaves and herbs, with the addition of black, blue, and purplish petals that may or may not be from roses, and... cranberries. It tastes mostly the same when brewed, aside from the tartness that, if you're not used to it, tastes like a (playful???) slap in the face.

There is no card or note, but it's not like Joe often feels the need for those anyway, right? ]